Who is
by Talps
Summary: Oneshot, Ninth Doctor. Right after the end of the Time War, the Doctor comes to Earth. More thought than action in this one. A woman writes about her experiences on one of those internet sites that no one ever admits to visiting.


EDIT: Extended the section after the first page-break.

An idea that came to me one day when I was perusing the BBC website. I'm aware of the whole 'random person meets The Doctor' thing is fairly common, but I've tried to make this one something special. Hope you like it. If you do, let me know! If you don't, let me know anyway!

The happy pleasure of owning Doctor Who and having permission to use it sadly does not belong to me (yet)... (shifty glance).

This is a message a woman writes on a conspiracy site about the Doctor.

* * *

It's so hard to talk about this. Even after meeting him myself, I can't help myself from seeing this as conspiracy rubbish. How can a man see Charles Dickens, the assassination of JFK and then turn up on a park bench in my part of London? It seems so ridiculous, but at the same time a part of me believes it. The little I saw of him is enough to make it all seem possible, despite what reason should say. 

I first saw him in December 2002. I'd been having a bad day. You know what it's like trying to do your shopping in the run up to Christmas (at least you will if you've ever tried to do your Christmas shopping in central London), and it's all so hectic. And there was an argument going on, blocking a big street, about some telephone box that had apparently appeared from nowhere in the middle of the road and the people hired to move it were refusing to do so or something. So the council was shouting at these contractors and they were shouting back and loads of people had gathered round to see what was going on and it was all just insane. Anyway, this all added up to put me in a bad mood, and I was hurrying back home with only half the things I'd wanted to buy… you get the idea.

There was a small park I'd walk through to get home from the shops, and I was going through it that day when I saw the man sitting on a bench. He had his hands over his face, crying, and you know, how can I say this without sounding immodest? I couldn't just let him sit there, no matter how bad I felt at the time.

I've seen the other pictures that people claim to be the same man, so I'll make it clear that this was the one who always has the short dark hair and the leather jacket. I thought with just that jacket he must be freezing; it was a very cold day.

Well I went up and put my arm round him and suddenly he was crying onto my shoulder. The first thing I heard him say was "Dead, they're all dead." I thought (or think) that he must have meant his family. I wondered how his whole family could have just died.

Well what could I do? I tried consoling him a little, but there wasn't much I could really say. So I listened. He spoke a little, though most of what he said was unintelligible, and I don't remember it well now anyway. He said something like 'Gallifrey.' He kept saying it had been destroyed I think. It was really strange, he kept saying something over and over again, and I thought it was 'garlic' or 'garlics' but after a while I thought it might be 'darlicks'. Alright, I know that sounds really stupid, but I'm just telling you what I thought he said. _I_ know how stupid it all sounds; I've gone over it in my head enough times.

Other things I heard him say, 'Romarner', 'Leela'. I think I heard him say the name 'Susan' so maybe that was the name of one of his family.

Well anyway I think we were there for about twenty or thirty minutes, and after that he suddenly got up and left without a word. I stayed there a couple of minutes going through it all in my head and then left.

Around mid January the next year (2003) I saw him again. I was walking through the same park when he came up to me. He shook my hand and said thanks for what I'd done for me that day. He apologised for rushing off, saying that after I'd helped him calm down he realised that he had parked really badly and he'd had to go and sort it out before it caused trouble. I thought he must mean his car at the time. I mean, he never gave me reason not to think so; it's only these websites that have made me think differently. Apart from being a little odd he never gave me reason to think his anything but what he made himself out to be. It was only when those shop-dummies went riot in London and I saw his picture when I was trying to find out about that that I had any idea that he wasn't… normal.

Anyway, I still felt sorry for him and I wasn't sure how to act. It had only been a month since I found him crying on a park bench! It was only 5 minutes walk from that park to my house so I invited him to come with me. He did the normal polite 'I don't want to be a bother' speech (at least most English readers should know what I'm talking about) so I urged him round and he agreed.

He called himself Dr John Smith when I asked. Anyway, soon we were in my kitchen drinking tea and making vague conversation about the recent news from Iraq and the weather and so on, when my mum came into the room. My mum was in the early stages of dementia back then (I hate the word 'dementia. It sounds so… insulting, but in reality it happens to so many people as they get old). I think she had been sleeping upstairs, but anyway, the Doctor stood up to introduce himself but she said to him, "Oh, Thomas, I haven't seen you in years." (It was something along those lines; I don't remember her exact words).

I was really embarrassed. Thomas was my cousin; he had left the country a few years before this and I had heard very little from him since then. I was going to say something but the Doctor said before I could, Oh, I've, uh, been abroad."

Well I was obviously surprised by his reaction and quickly stepped in saying, "He moved to Australia, Mum."

She murmured some reply and left the kitchen. I apologised to the Doctor, told him she was going into dementia, and he smiled and said it was alright. It didn't stop me being embarrassed and he left a little while later.

Four months later my Mum had an accident and had to be moved into a home. A couple of days after she left I was packing her things into a car I'd hired to take down to her, when he appeared again. We talked a little and I told him about my Mum, and helped me pack her things into the car. I can only vaguely remember that day; I was just out of it, and I can't remember much of what we talked about.

Around August or September that year I saw him again when I was walking into town. We just talked for a bit. I asked him what his job was, just for conversation, you know. He told me he was a traveller. He said, "There are some amazing things to see out there." He hesitated and looked lost in thought, then turned to me. His eyes were sparkling with excitement, "I've seen things you couldn't imagine! You wouldn't believe it!"

I laughed and answered, "Well if there's so much to see then why do you keep coming back to this dead end?" I gestured around me.

He grinned, "I have to say I have no idea. First time I came here was just by accident; I only stuck around for the sake of…" He trailed off, suddenly looking almost horrified. His eyes filled with grief and he looked right at me, "Oh (my name), I'm alone. They're all gone."

Again I have to guess that he was talking about his family. I wanted to comfort him; he looked like an abandoned child, unable to understand what was happening to him. So I answered, "Not quite alone. I'll always be here when you need me."

He smiled and we walked on in silence. When we got into town and went our separate ways he said quietly, just before I left, "I think I do know why I love it here."

VVVVVV

In December that year my Mum had a stroke and died. It was… almost more than I could bear. She was everything in my life and it left me with nothing. I ran into the Doctor again a few days after the funeral, and… it's so strange, looking back. Somehow he knew without asking that she'd died. He just turned up at the door and I remember we just sat for ages in silence. I was crying, mourning of course, and I think he was doing the same, remembering that lost family of his, and we drew comfort from each other. It was wonderful not to be alone, not to be the only one mourning. I think I fell asleep and when I woke he was gone. I woke up in bed that morning and I couldn't remember going upstairs. I don't know if I simply don't remember or if he put me to bed. Sometimes I have dreams about things he said after I fell asleep that night, stories. I can never remember the words; only the sound of his voice. I don't know if they're real or things my mind created.

It took a couple of weeks things for things to get back on track. I was able to function. Life went on, despite all the evidence I saw to the contrary.

It wasn't until the middle of 2004 that I saw him again. He told me he'd been busy and transport wasn't as reliable as it once was. He asked me how I'd been getting on, and I ended up admitting that I didn't know why I still stuck around here. I'd lived in London most of my life for the sake of my Mum, but now she was gone I couldn't bring myself to leave. Just as he was leaving he paused and offered, "You can come with me if you want."

"What, now?" I was taken by surprise. He just nodded, grinning. I thought he was joking at first but it was quickly obvious that he was serious. "I can't just _leave_."

"Why not?" He grinned that massive grin. "(My name), I've seen things you wouldn't believe. It's an amazing place out there, and I could show you it all."

I shook my head. It was just too much to think about going off around the world so suddenly. It takes planning, money, and there are things to sort out at home, like your job. I answered quietly, "Maybe next time."

He looked a little disappointed but kept grinning. "Next time, then."

'Next time' was two months later, late July. He turned up out of the blue like he always does, we talked like old friends and just before he left he made that offer again. "So, will you be coming with me this time?"

I was tempted to go with him this time. But I declined. It was too much.

This went on for the rest of 2004 and into early 2005. He'd turn up every couple of months, outside my house or in town or in that park and we'd talk, and then just before he left he would offer again to take me with him, saying I'd see things I'd never of dreamed of, saying we could be back before I was missed, it wouldn't cost me anything. Each time I admit I was more tempted.

A week or two after we parted in February 2005, I made up my mind that I would agree next time, that I'd go with him. Making the decision was… amazing. The excitement… I couldn't wait for next time he turned up.

He never came back again. I haven't seen him in 2 years.

* * *

I wrote this a year or two ago after looking on the fake conspiracy sites on the BBC website. I very much liked the idea of the Doctor coming to Earth right after the Time War ended. He's faced a lot of hard times here, but has also met a lot of good people. I like imagining how the ninth Doctor would react to the loss, and I think he would need someone to help him through it, thus creating the character in this story. Then I imagined she herself would have problems that the Doctor would help her through. I probably drew inspiration from episodes like 'School Reunion' for the ending, reflecting on the way Sarah Jane reacted to the Doctor leaving her. The sort of desolation, no longer knowing what to do with herself now it's over. The Doctor seems to leave a lot of that behind him. 

The writing in this story was a it uneven, a bit awkward, because I felt the woman who told it was not a writer herself. At first she didn't really know how to say what she wanted, though as she went on it began to pour out more fluently. She aways felt awakward about posting on a conspiracy website since she considered herself to be quite down-to-Earth. Sometimes she lost track a bit of what she was saying. I wanted to convey the emotions she felt herself as she relived the events for the first time. Empathy, loneliness, and eventually loss. Hence the abrupt ending.

There was originally a second part I wrote to this, set about 10 years later with the 10th Doctor, but I didn't like it much, and a very good friend agreed with me and recommended I drop it, so I did. I'm happier for it. It didn't add much, ruined a lot of the mystery and therefore undid some of the characterisation from this first part. It was very awkward for me to write. If you ask really nicely I might have a try at rewriting and posting the second part.

So what did you think of the story? Like it? Hate it? Love it? Loathe it? Review, let me know! Win desirable prizes!


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